Fame At Last… Sort Of

I don’t often remember my dreams, which is probably a good thing as it prevents me from boring you with the details. Every so often, however, something wakes me up in the middle of a dream and I find out just how odd my mind can be.

So last night it appears I was in Harvey Nichols. Goodness knows why. I can’t afford to go in through the door, let alone shop there. But there I was, and the staff had discovered that I knew Cat Valente, as a result of which they were treating me like a celebrity and allowing me to try on some fabulous, feather-festooned bridal gowns.

Then I woke up, and as it was the middle of the night I needed to get back to sleep. My usual tactic in such cases is to play a podcast, because I can lie there in darkness letting the lilt of voices wash over me. Normally this works, no matter who is on the podcast. But as I had been dreaming about Cat I put on the latest episode of the SF Squeecast, which was recorded live at Worldcon before the Hugo ceremony (where of course they all won rockets).

You should all listen anyway, just to hear Cat enthuse about John Crowley, but I stayed awake for quite a while. Towards the end Paul Cornell started talking about the Hugos, which got me concentrating on what was being said. Which is how I discovered that they mentioned me. And how I heard Elizabeth Bear say, “Stop fucking me, Cheryl”.

On closer examination this morning, what she actually said was, “Stop fucking with me, Cheryl”. But she said it quite quickly, and I was in bed half asleep. It was a somewhat surreal moment.

Still, I have now been mentioned on the Squeecast, and while I wasn’t exactly squeed about I am claiming that I’m now famous. If you want to hear why Bear was saying that about me, you’ll have to listen for yourselves.